


Change of Course

by Themiscyra



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Suicide Attempt, Trans, Trans Female Character, Transitioning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themiscyra/pseuds/Themiscyra
Summary: As Voyager enters a desolate, lightless region of space known as the Void, the pressures upon Ensign Kim become too great. A tragedy is barely averted, and in the aftermath, the Ensign's life, and Voyager's journey, change forever.
Relationships: Harry Kim & Tom Paris, Harry Kim/Seven of Nine, Kathryn Janeway & Harry Kim
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue

Nothing.

There was nothing outside of the windows of her quarters, not even the light of distant stars - something about this cold, empty region extinguished even those pinpricks of light. There had been nothing for weeks, now, and the theta radiation all around them left them blind to how long the nothing would last.

It had seemed so simple, at first - if there were no other hazards in their way, _Voyager_ could be self-sufficient for a year or two of solitude. They had restocked before entering this strangely empty region of space, traded for supplies to repair and maintain the ship as long as possible. Their encounter with Arturis had left its scars on ship and crew, but soon all was functioning even better than before.

Arturis - that was the real problem, wasn’t it? Another Delta Quadrant alien drifting into their path, with another offer to get them home, too good to be true and yet seemingly genuine. He’d even pretended the idea came from Starfleet, in the form of an experimental ship, the _Dauntless_ , filled with extraordinary new technology. But it had all been an elaborate revenge plot, and though _Voyager_ had managed to adapt the technology aboard the _Dauntless_ to get a couple hundred light-years closer to home, it was clear that their ship was simply incompatible with quantum slipstream drive. They could not use what they had learned to shorten their journey in any significant way.

Her friends had tried to cheer her up with the usual lies - a call had come in from a reclusive scientist. A wormhole had been picked up on long-range sensors. She would be drinking Vulcan mochas in San Francisco inside a week. But it had been four years. She could put on a good show, but she wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t as gullible as her friends believed. They were trying to help - she did her best to pretend they _were_ helping. But she was well past believing they would ever achieve anything but short hops across the Delta Quadrant. Maybe they’d shave a couple decades off their journey. Maybe they’d make it home in another forty or fifty years. But it wasn’t going to happen any time soon, and it wasn’t enough.

In the face of the endless darkness...nothing was enough. Not anymore. She had thought she could endure, but here, at the end, robbed of all her personal delusions, she could see how wrong she had been.

She had tried to occupy herself with holonovels, time with friends, even composing a new piece on her clarinet, a lonely tune inspired by the void around them. But quietly, at first without consciously realizing it, she had been making preparations. Rerouting internal sensors. Disabling failsafes. Carefully removing everything designed to ensure that, in the enlightened 24th century, no one did what she was planning. It had only been in the last few days that she had admitted those plans to herself.

And now she was ready. She had recorded her last words on a PADD disconnected from the main computer, left it on the table just inside her door. She had selected a sharp blade suited to her task. It would be a cold, lonely death, slouched on the floor of her sonic shower, but even the captain didn’t have a dedicated bathtub in her quarters, and if she did this in the holodeck, she would be discovered too quickly.

She lay down on the tiled floor, and took that final step toward her end.

* * *

Lt. Tom Paris had an extra spring in his step as he made his way down the corridor, isolinear chip in hand. It had been a risk, challenging Neelix to a friendly wager over a game of dom-jot - putting up replicator rations against holodeck time - but it had paid off. This void was getting on everyone’s nerves, and Harry had to be feeling it more than most, even if he remained outwardly cheerful. A little extra time away from _Voyager_ and her problems was just the thing. And if Harry was up for an extra installment of Captain Proton, well, so much the better.

Arriving at Harry’s quarters, he pressed the chime button on the companel. Frowning when he received no answer, he thumbed the intercom instead. “Harry? It’s Tom. Listen, I won some extra holodeck time off Neelix. I’ll even let you choose the program, but I have to say, we really left old Proton and Kincaid dangling off a cliff last time, so…”

Nothing. Tom had been sure that would bait him. And last he’d checked, Harry was in his quarters. He tapped his communicator. “Computer, where’s Ensign Harry Kim?”

The carefully modulated, feminine voice responded instantly. “Ensign Harry Kim is in his quarters.”

Tom spread his arms vaguely. “Well - is he sleeping?”

A harsh tone came from the communicator. “Unable to process query. Please try again later.”

A sickly, sinking feeling began to fill Tom’s stomach. He wasn’t sure why, not yet - but this didn’t feel right. “Computer, describe the life signs of Ensign Harry Kim.”

The harsh tone sounded again. “Unable to process query. Please try again later.”

The pitch of Tom’s voice rose slightly, that ugly feeling in his gut transforming into panic. “Computer, describe _my_ life signs.”

“Lieutenant junior grade Thomas Eugene Paris. Human. Male. Thirty-four Earth standard years of age. Body temperature thirty-six point six degrees Celsius. Pulse eighty beats per standard minute. Respiration--”

“Computer, stop,” Tom ordered. His mouth was suddenly very dry. He licked his lips, coming to a decision. “Computer. Medical override on the quarters of Ensign Harry Kim. Authorization Paris Omicron six four.”

A rapid series of tones sounded, and the doors to Harry’s quarters abruptly swept open. Tom hurried inside, finding the main room dark - he could see a PADD on a table near the door, but he ignored it for now. More distantly, there was light coming from the refresher on the far end of the suite. His heart racing, he strode briskly across the floor, suddenly aware of a peculiar smell in the air - and when he saw what waited in the sonic shower, he felt sick to his stomach.

Forcing back the bile that threatened to rise up his throat, he dropped to his knees, reaching for his best friend’s neck, trying, for now, to ignore the pool of blood in the shower. Harry’s pulse was weak, thready, but it was still there. The razor blade still lay by his hand. It was easy enough to see what had happened.

“Harry, why would you…” Tom shook off his shock. There was no time. He tapped his communicator once more, then placed it on Harry’s chest - if the computer couldn’t recognize his life signs, it would need the extra help. “Computer, activate the EMH. Emergency site-to-site transport to Sickbay.”

Motes of light coalesced around his best friend, accompanied by the familiar trill - the most blessed sound in the world just now. Harry vanished in a second, and Tom rocked back in relief, his eyes fluttering closed. In a moment, he would rise and race to Sickbay himself. But for now, though never a religious man - few humans were, in the modern era - he offered up a prayer to anyone or anything that might be listening.

“Please. _Please_ pull Harry through this.”


	2. Chapter 2

_Captain’s log, Stardate 52086.2. Our recent encounter with Arturis left deep scars on this ship and her crew - moreso, I fear, on the latter. Coupled with our entry into what we have begun to call the Void, an empty region of space blanketed in dark matter and theta radiation which permits no visible starlight and scrambles our sensors, morale is at an all-time low. I confess that I myself had given in to a sense of malaise, confining myself to quarters and brooding over the choices I have made on this journey._

_No more. Because as badly as recent events have affected me, it is clear that others are in far more dire straits. My crew, Starfleet and Maquis alike, are exemplary without exception. But even the most capable officers can crack, given enough pressure, and it seems that the pressures on our young Ensign Kim have been unfathomably great. Fortunately, he was discovered by Lieutenant Paris before he could do irreparable harm to himself. In light of the emotional strain this has caused Paris, and the uniquely empty space in which we currently operate, I have granted the Lieutenant leave. I’m told he has not left Sickbay since transporting Ensign Kim there. As for Kim, he will be confined to Sickbay under the supervision of the Doctor until such time as we have determined he is no longer a threat to himself. I regret more than ever our lack of a ship’s counselor, because without a trained psychiatrist aboard, I confess I do not know how we can properly treat the Ensign._

* * *

“He’s coming around.”

The voice was familiar, though strange all at once - she hadn’t expected to hear anything, ever again. Was there an afterlife after all? But that word, _he_ , it was a punch to her gut. Had she been through all that just to wind up in some kind of hell? She remembered, suddenly, that ancient Earth religions had believed all suicides were bound there. She’d never stopped to consider that they might be right.

“Harry? Harry, talk to me.”

“Give him room, Lieutenant!”

There was the sensation of a hand in hers, warm and welcome, and without thinking about it, she squeezed it. She opened her eyes - and with a hiss, shut them again, nearly blinded by the lights above her.

“Ah, yes, my apologies,” that first familiar voice said. “You’ve been unconscious for two days, Ensign. Computer, lower the lights to thirty percent of normal. Mr. Kim, open your eyes slowly.”

She cringed inwardly at the words, but she was beginning to realize she wasn’t in Hell - and neither was she dead. She was right back where she had started. Slowly, carefully, she opened her eyes. As they adjusted, she saw Tom hovering above her, his face drawn. He looked sweaty and shaken, and the stubble on his face spoke to a couple days without shaving.

“Damn,” she said, her voice unexpectedly hoarse. “Tom, you look like shit.”

Tom let out a weak, gasping laugh. “You should see the other guy,” he joked, before the ghost of a smile ran from his face. “Harry. Harry, why’d you do it?”

She turned her head, seeing the Doctor hovering nearby. “Doctor...could we have a minute alone?”

“You’re under medical supervision, Ensign,” the Doctor replied brusquely. But he looked to Tom, then back at her, and his expression softened. “And as Mr. Paris is my assistant, I suppose he counts. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Thank you, Doc,” Tom said, and Harry could only nod her head, echoing the sentiment. The Doctor nodded back, then turned and stepped into the next room. “Okay. Take whatever time you need, but - Harry, I need to know why. I need to know how to keep this from happening again.”

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment and resting her head back against the pillow as she gathered her thoughts. How to tell someone, anyone - even her best friend - the very thing she’d kept locked up tight for years? “Harry’s the problem, Tom. Harry, he, him, his - Mr. Kim, guy, everything - everything that reminds me how the galaxy sees me.”

“How the galaxy sees you? You’re my best friend, you’re a Starfleet officer, you’re one of the best men I--” This time, it was obvious when she cringed, and Tom brought himself to a sudden halt as the realization hit. “You’re not a man.”

She shook her head. “I’m not.”

“Harry - oh, damn. What should I be calling you?” Tom asked, raking a hand through his hair.

She felt something fluttering inside, and then, entirely to her own surprise, she laughed, in a quick, humorless burst. “You know - I’ve never allowed myself to think about it? Just...we’ll stick with Harry for now. Until I come up with something better. I know...you’d never mean it unkindly, Tom.”

“No. Never,” Tom promised. “But I don’t understand. Why didn’t you come out before now? Why did you wait until things were this bad?”

“It’s complicated. I…” She trailed off, lapsing into silence for several moments, haunted by the memories as they surged back to the front of her mind. Tom reached out to squeeze her hand, but otherwise waited in patient silence. At last, she spoke again. “When I was twelve years old, I told my mother. And she - she immediately deflated. She didn’t say anything. I don’t think she could. She just drove the skimmer the rest of the way home, and when we got inside, she went to her room. She shut the door behind her but...I could hear her crying.”

Tom stared, shaking his head. “This is the twenty-fourth century. Why would anyone on Earth react that way?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, with a short, humorless laugh. “My parents have always just been so proud to have a _son_. I’m an only child, you know? It was hard enough for them to have _me_. So there I was, their miracle child, a son to carry on the family name...and I was telling mom she was wrong. That she had a daughter, instead. She never brought it up again. Neither did I. I mean - how could I? I’d broken my mother’s heart. I felt like I’d failed my parents, dashed all their hopes and dreams for me, and when she chose to ignore it, I...I couldn’t find it in myself to try telling either of them again.”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she reached up, swiping them away with a finger, shaking her head and sniffing deeply. “I thought...I’d just wait a while. Until I was away from home. Then until I graduated from the Academy. Then until I got settled in my career. Someday, I was sure, they’d be so proud of me that it wouldn’t matter to them that they had a daughter instead of a son.”

Tom nodded slowly, squeezing her hand once more. “But then we got stranded in the Delta Quadrant.”

“Yeah. Then we got stranded,” she echoed. “There was no hope of receiving treatment aboard _Voyager_. But I had so much hope, at first. We’d find a wormhole, or some way of enhancing our warp drive, or...a spatial trajector, a vortex, a geodesic fold, a quantum slipstream drive. And when we got home, I wouldn’t wait any longer. I’d do it. Somehow I’d explain it to my parents, and finally, _finally_ I’d be allowed to be myself.”

“Harry...I’m so sorry. If I’d only known…” Tom shook his head. “All those attempts to cheer you up with lies about how we’d get home any day now - they must have felt like slaps in the face.”

She looked up at him, and squeezed his hand tightly. “Tom, no. Don’t blame yourself. I know you were trying to keep my spirits up - and you know what? I never really believed you. Even when you roped B’Elanna into it. What mattered to me was that you were doing your best to look out for me. I never had that, even at the Academy. Someone who just...took it upon himself to try and see me through all the rough patches, keep me happy no matter what. You’ve been my best friend for four years now. _That_ is all that’s ever mattered. And it kept me going longer than I would have lasted otherwise.”

Tom nodded slowly, looking down at the edge of the biobed. “You never deserved that, Harry. I know you say your parents love you - I won’t dispute that. But no one deserves what you went through. You should never have had to pretend to make anyone happy. And you should never have been put in a position where ending your life seemed preferable to living it. I’m so damned scared - I came so close to losing you, and I’m terrified you’re going to hurt yourself again. I don’t understand why you didn’t come to me. Didn’t you know I’d stick by you no matter what? And the crew - we’d all have your backs.”

“When the Void closed in, it - it’s like I was just moving on autopilot. I didn’t even realize what I was doing until the moment of truth. I should have told you, told the Doctor, told the Captain. I don’t know why I didn’t, it just...it felt like no one could help me. I…” Harry trailed off. She wanted to promise she’d never hurt herself again, that she’d never even consider it. But here, now, in the face of what she’d done to herself, how could she? Without a counselor overseeing her care, without the opportunity to become who she was meant to be, how could she be certain the feelings would never return, that she’d never reach that crisis point again? “Tom, I’m going to try very hard not to do anything like that again. And the Captain, the Doctor - you know they’re going to do anything in their power to make sure I won’t. I mean, I’m still confined here, right? Medical supervision?”

“Yeah.” Tom sniffed, wiping at his eyes. “Yeah, Harry, you are. I’m sorry.”

She let out a long breath, giving him the best smile she could muster. “Don’t be. After what I did - everyone’s just doing what they have to do. Just do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

She wrinkled her nose and made a disgusted face, feeling a thrill of gratitude when it made Tom laugh, just a little, just quietly. “Go take a shower, Paris. You stink,” she ragged, before softening her face into a smile. “I promise, I’ll be here when you get back.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, Kim,” Tom said. He paused, somewhat awkwardly, then leaned down, planting a light kiss on her forehead. “See you in an hour.”

She nodded, still smiling, and he turned to depart. She waited until he was halfway to the door before calling out again. “Make it two! I want you to really scrub!”

He let out another quiet chuckle and gave her a sardonic little wave, and then he was gone.

* * *

Captain Janeway stood on the raised portion of her ready room, staring out at the starless sky, taking no comfort from it. On her desk, she knew, her coffee was rapidly cooling. She would feel guilty for the waste, if she weren’t overloaded with guilt over other matters. The Doctor, Chakotay, Neelix, and Tom Paris all waited patiently behind her, allowing their Captain the luxury of silent contemplation.

“All right,” she said at last, her voice soft and deliberate even as she turned and made her way back to her desk, settling into her chair. “I want to hear options.”

“We can’t offer the Ensign a standard transition. Sickbay is not equipped with a cellular reconstruction matrix of that caliber. We can correct minor genetic defects and repair cell damage - that’s it,” the Doctor said. “I’ve checked the ship’s inventory. We simply don’t have the resources to construct a matrix of our own, particularly as some components cannot be replicated.”

The Captain put a hand to her forehead, sighing. “And we obviously don’t have trading partners at the moment. Mr. Neelix, is there anything you can tell us about the other side of the Void?”

“No, Captain, I’m sorry. I wish I could, but no one I spoke with before we entered this region had any record of civilizations on the far side,” he replied, shaking his head. “Seven was able to provide some information collected by the Borg, but it was highly limited. Basic species identification, summaries of their biology and technology, out of date and probably incomplete. It’s going to take me some time to establish communications and trade agreements with whatever civilizations we encounter next, and determine who might have the resources we need. And…”

Neelix trailed off for a moment, but Janeway raised an eyebrow at him and gestured for him to continue. His brows knitted together, he went on. “Forgive me. This isn’t something I have much experience with. But how do we know other crew members aren’t suffering from Ensign Kim’s condition?”

“That would depend on which condition you’re referring to,” Chakotay explained. “On Federation worlds, transgender individuals are usually identified as children - sometimes we’re even able to identify key indicators in the womb. Regardless, most trans children realize their gender before puberty.”

“And most parents are more accepting than Harry’s,” Tom added, a distinct undercurrent of bitterness to his voice.

Janeway nodded. “Ensign Kim is a special case. It’s unlikely we have other crewmates suffering from gender dysphoria, though it is possible. The more immediate concern is suicidal depression. We’re all under immense strain at the moment. Some of us have felt it more than others, but we’ve all been feeling it. I’m worried that Ensign Kim may not be the last to seriously contemplate - or attempt - suicide. I’d like to make sure we close the loopholes that allowed her to make this attempt. And we need some way of stepping up our psychiatric care.”

“I’m actually working on that, Captain. There are a variety of memory engrams and biographical details of historical psychiatric professionals in the ship’s computer,” Tom said. “I’m no Lewis Zimmerman, but I am handy with a holodeck, and I’m doing my best to construct a counseling program in my spare time.”

The Captain raised her eyebrows, pleasantly surprised, and began to smile. “That’s an excellent idea, Lieutenant. Doctor, I want you to assist - I know you don’t have the best bedside manner, but you do have some programming for psychiatric care. Let’s make this the best substitute for a ship’s counselor we can hope for.”

The Doctor nodded, with nearly imperceptible reluctance, as he glanced at Tom, and Chakotay took the opportunity to step in. “B’Elanna and her team are working on the ship’s internal sensors and the other systems Ensign Kim modified, and they’re setting up an encryption algorithm on the controls - any alterations will require authorization from multiple officers. Tuvok’s also assisting with the setup.”

“Good. All right,” Janeway said, picking up her coffee and taking a sip, making a face at the unacceptably cool temperature. “That brings us back around to the Ensign herself. Doctor, if we can’t manage a full transition, is there anything else we can do?”

“Well, we’re essentially back to the age of leeches and lancing boils,” the EMH replied, a look of disgust and contempt on his face. “In the pre-warp era, transition care for transgender women was limited to the introduction of testosterone blockers and estrogens in either oral or injected form, as well as crude surgeries to reshape the body. This was considered a satisfactory treatment by most at the time, though even contemporary sources recognized it was hardly an ideal solution. I can adapt this treatment somewhat with the equipment available to me. Though I cannot make extensive modifications, I can limit testosterone production in Ensign Kim’s body, and shut off the corresponding receptors. I can similarly induce greater estrogen production, and cosmetic surgery is certainly within my grasp. Given that she is well aware of the standard course of treatment, I’m not sure this will be anything more than a stopgap, at best. I’m not sure I can predict how she’ll react.”

Janeway pursed her lips and nodded, considering the notion. “I think the least we can do is present her with the option. Perhaps it will help, for the time being.”

The Doctor inclined his head. “Of course. I’ll speak with her as soon as I return to Sickbay.”

“No - thank you, Doctor, but no. I think I’d rather speak with the Ensign myself,” the Captain replied. “Perhaps if I’d spoken with her more frankly before…”

“Captain, you can’t blame yourself,” Tom interjected.

She gave him a rueful smile. “Can’t I? No matter. I’d still like to speak with Ensign Kim personally. Send me the information you’ve gathered, Doctor, and I’ll present the option when I see her. Dismissed.”

With dutiful nods, the men around her rose and left her ready room, leaving Janeway alone with her thoughts. She went to the replicator in her wall, setting the cold mug of coffee inside and recycling it, seriously considering replicating another. Deciding not to add an extra replicator ration to her conscience, she turned instead to gaze out at the void again, clasping her hands behind her back, trying not to lose herself in the darkness.

* * *

Later that day, after reviewing the data, Captain Janeway made her way down to Sickbay. The Doctor was tending to Ensign Kim when she arrived, but excused himself quietly at the sight of her. Harry herself was seated on her biobed, a PADD beside her.

“Ensign Kim,” Janeway said as she walked over, giving her young officer a gentle smile. “It’s good to see you up. How are you feeling?”

“Physically healed, Captain,” Harry replied, giving her a weak smile in return. “Mentally...I guess we’re all still trying to figure that out.”

“Yes, we are. What are you reading?” the Captain asked, nodding toward the PADD.

Harry picked it up, tapping at the controls. “Some literature the Doctor recommended. Some modern material, a lot of old Earth stuff, weirdly. Right now I’m in the middle of _Trans Bodies, Trans Selves_ \- some kind of resource guide for transgender people of the early twenty-first century.”

“I see. Well that...might be relevant to some of what I have to say,” Janeway replied. “But I’ll get to that. Would you like anything? Tea, perhaps?”

Harry shrugged one shoulder, nodding. “I could go for some Tarkalean tea, sure. Extra sweet.”

“Sounds delightful. I think I’ll join you. One moment.” The Captain stepped to the replicator, putting in the order and returning a moment later, handing Harry’s glass to her. “I understand you’re still going by Harry for the moment. Is that all right?”

“Still haven’t come up with anything better, to be honest,” Harry said, with a small, crooked smile. “I think maybe...I’m not allowing myself to consider it too seriously. Because what’s the point, right? I know the ship, Captain. I know I can’t get treatment here, and even if the technology exists somewhere in the Delta Quadrant, it’s nowhere nearby.”

“That doesn’t mean the crew won’t address you as you deserve to be addressed - and treat you accordingly. I’ll make damn sure of that, Ensign.”

“And maybe that’ll help. It just...feels hard to accept it. In this body,” Harry said, gesturing at herself. “Besides, you know Starfleet culture. Even if you’re a woman, it’s all ‘sir’ and ‘mister’. It’s supposed to be gender-neutral, I know. It doesn’t feel that way.”

“No, Ensign, I quite agree. It doesn’t.” Janeway took a sip of her tea - considerably less sweet than the glass she’d ordered for Harry - and then settled into the chair by the Ensign’s biobed, setting her glass down on a cart nearby. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, hesitating just a split second more before deciding to go full speed ahead. “Ensign, do you remember what I told you when you came aboard?”

“You told me a lot of things, Captain,” Harry said, chuckling, then tilting her head. “But that’s right - you said you never liked being called sir. That ma’am would do in a pinch, but you preferred Captain.”

“That’s right. And maybe if I’d told you the reasons, it would have given you a reason to confide in me before all this came to a head,” Janeway replied. “Harry, this is a chapter of my life I’ve put behind me, but I want to share it with you now. You see - I’m like you. I lived the first several years of my life presenting as male. By puberty, I realized that wasn’t who I was. I realize now that I was...considerably lucky. When I told my parents how I felt, they accepted it. I was allowed to see counselors, to suspend puberty, and finally to undergo cellular reconstruction.”

Harry gaped at her. “Captain - I never realized…”

The Captain shook her head. “Of course not. Our society affords us the opportunity to integrate completely, if we so desire. It’s an extraordinary improvement on what we would have endured centuries ago. By the time I enrolled at Starfleet Academy, I was indistinguishable from any other young woman. But even so...I never liked being called Mr. Janeway, or later, sir. I knew it was the same treatment given to every other woman in Starfleet, but it grated on something that still felt hard-won. So, as I won the privileges of rank, I made it clear that I preferred to be addressed by my rank. Given Starfleet’s expectations of mutual respect, the vast majority of my fellow officers complied. No one questioned my reasons - there have been plenty of other women in Starfleet who felt the same way, not to mention officers outside the gender binary. Someday, perhaps, we’ll revisit the gender neutrality of those forms of address. But for the time being, Harry, I understand your discomfort. And I can assure you that no one on this ship will call you Mr. Kim, or sir, ever again, if that’s your preference. I’ll make that an order if I have to, but I know most of the people here, if not all, care deeply about you. I don’t expect that will be necessary.”

Harry nodded slowly, her eyes glistening. “Thank you, Captain.”

“You’re very welcome.” Janeway reached out to take Harry’s hand, squeezing gently and giving her a warm smile. “I don’t often share my history with others. It just doesn’t feel relevant to most situations. But I want you to know that I am more than happy to lend you an ear any time you need one. On this subject, or any other. I don’t want you suffering in silence again. All right?”

“Yes. Of course - thank you, Captain,” Harry agreed.

Janeway squeezed her hand again before letting go. “Good. Now, as to your treatment. As you’ve realized, we’re not currently in a position to begin a full cellular reconstruction. Unless something changes dramatically, it will be at least two years before we are. But the Doctor has outlined an alternative treatment, and I wanted to present it to you personally. He can make small alterations to your biochemistry which would have the effect of nullifying the androgens in your body, and stepping up production of estrogens. He can also perform cosmetic surgeries. You wouldn’t have the full biological function you would normally enjoy following a standard transition, but it...might be a start.”

“That’s why he gave me all these old books,” Harry breathed, frowning thoughtfully. “To help me prepare for that possibility.”

“Yes, I believe so. It’s your choice. If you don’t think--”

Janeway was interrupted abruptly by the chime of her communicator. “Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway. Please report immediately to Cargo Bay 2.”

The Captain sighed, rolling her eyes and shooting Harry an apologetic glance before tapping her badge. “Janeway here. Seven, I set my communicator to emergency transmissions only. I’m currently occupied.”

“With Ensign Kim, yes. You may bring her with you,” Seven replied. “The Doctor as well. This concerns the Ensign’s treatment.”

Janeway opened her mouth, closed it again, and let out a puff of breath before responding. She looked back at Harry, who looked just as confused, but shrugged. Finally, shaking her head, the Captain leaned back, gesturing for the Doctor’s attention. “Very well, Seven. We’ll be there shortly.”

“Acknowledged.”

The channel closed, and Harry looked to the Captain, who spread her hands helplessly. “Your guess is as good as mine, Ensign, but let’s not keep our gracious hostess waiting.”

* * *

When they arrived in the cargo bay, Seven wasted no time with pleasantries, immediately leaving the machinery she was working with and striding over to Ensign Kim. “I understand from our crewmates you are suffering from gender dysphoria. Is this correct?”

“Ah - yes. Hello to you, too,” Harry replied.

Janeway sighed in exasperation. “Seven, you know there’s a little thing called tact.”

“Tact is inefficient. I understand the Ensign’s condition is dire, and immediate relief is required.”

“Seven, what the hell have you done to these alcoves?!” the Doctor exclaimed, drawing the attention of the others. All but one of the regeneration alcoves installed in the cargo bay had been disassembled, the bulk of them reconfigured into a large machine that resembled a bed surrounded by a strange geometric framework. Unused components lay neatly organized by type in a grid a meter away from the new device.

“I have constructed a Borg genetic reconfiguration matrix and sterilization field,” Seven replied, walking over to the device and tapping at a console nearby. “It is nearly complete, if you would like to examine it. I believe I shall require the assistance of Lieutenant Torres to reintegrate it into the ship’s systems.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with me,” Harry remarked.

“The Borg recognize the condition of gender dysphoria. It interferes in the interlink between the drone and the Collective,” Seven explained. “In order to subdue a drone suffering from this condition, it is necessary to alter their organic components to ease their distress. This allows the conscious mind to be fully suppressed and wholly assimilated.”

Harry’s eyes widened and her face paled slightly. “The Borg recognize gender dysphoria and allow drones to transition _for the sake of assimilation?_ ”

Seven looked at her quizzically. “That is what I just said, yes.”

“I’m going to be sick,” Harry muttered.

Janeway put a hand on her arm, supporting her, and turned back to the former Borg. “I assume that is _not_ the intent of this device.”

“Naturally it is not. I have no desire to assimilate Ensign Kim into the Borg Collective. I merely wish to…” Seven seemed to catch herself, and her voice softened as she looked to Harry. “Ensign, I wish to ease your suffering. With the assistance of Lieutenant Torres and the Doctor, I believe we can modify my nanoprobes and use them in concert with this device to allow your transition. The process will be similar to Federation cellular reconstruction.”

“Oh God.” Harry shut her eyes for a long moment, then recovered herself. “Okay. We’re going to use your nanoprobes and - your regeneration technology.”

“If you consent,” Janeway said firmly.

“Yes. Right. Are there going to be side effects?”

Seven of Nine hesitated. “They will be temporary, but yes. At this time, I am essentially a collective of one. The combination of my nanoprobes and the reconfiguration chamber will make you a part of that collective. It will not be assimilation. We will not be a hive mind. But our unconscious minds will be linked for up to two months following the procedure. We may share dreams, and a certain...I believe you would call it intuition...regarding one another’s experiences and emotions.”

Janeway nodded slowly, then turned to Harry. “Ensign, this is entirely your choice. I understand how...uncomfortable this procedure may be for you, and for Seven, for that matter. We can still pursue the alternative treatment we discussed. The Doctor believes you should still be able to undergo full cellular reconstruction once we have the ability to construct a matrix.”

“That could be two years. Or more,” Harry replied, eyeing the machine. “But this...Seven, I...I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I’m just not sure. Could I have some time to think about it?”

“Ensign, this is the most efficient solution to your problem,” Seven began, but the Doctor set a hand on her shoulder and she paused, pursing her lips. “...of course. As the Captain said, we will only proceed with your full consent.”

“Exactly right,” Janeway agreed. “Take all the time you need.”

The Ensign nodded slowly, letting out a long breath. “Thank you. I think for now I’d like to go back to Sickbay, maybe lie down for a while.”

The Doctor stepped forward at that, putting his hand on Harry’s arm. “Of course. Right this way, then.”

They began to walk toward the door, but Harry paused after a couple steps, looking back. “Wait. Seven...you’d really be okay with this? You’re willing to put up with linking our minds to make this happen?”

“I am accustomed to a hive mind, Ensign,” the former drone replied, inclining her head. “I believe I can accept a connection to yours, for the time being. I can think of less pleasant minds to be linked to.”

Harry chuckled, rolling her eyes amiably. “Flattery will get you everywhere. But...thank you. Really, Seven, thank you.”

She inclined her head in response. “Of course, Ensign.”

“Rest well, Harry,” Janeway added. “We’ll discuss this when you’re ready.”

The Doctor gave Seven a stern look. “And once Mr. Paris has relieved me, _you_ and _I_ are going to have a little chat about disassembling all your spare regeneration alcoves without consulting your local physician. Come along, Ensign Kim.”

Harry laughed again, shaking her head as she walked back out of the cargo bay, leaving a bemused ex-drone in her wake.


	3. Chapter 3

_Personal log, Ensign H. Kim, Stardate 52094.4. It’s been three days since I woke in Sickbay. Four days since I attempted to take my own life. Looking back...I feel ashamed. Stupid. I knew_ Voyager _didn’t have the equipment needed for my transition, but the way everyone’s rallied around me - it’s clear I could have reached out for help at any time. I don’t know why I didn’t. I don’t know why I ever let it get this bad._

_The Doctor’s been trying to talk me through this. He’s not exactly the best counselor. Hopefully Tom gets that program he’s been talking about online soon. Meanwhile, the Doc’s urged me to keep up my personal log, record my feelings and observations. He’s also prescribed regular injections of an antidepressant. It’s helping, I think._

_I think._

_The truth is, I’m scared. I didn’t consciously realize what was happening before, what I was doing. Or maybe I just didn’t want to figure it out. Part of me wanted to die. I have no reason to think that part of me is gone. I don’t know if that part of me will ever be completely gone. But I have to find a way to get it under control. I can’t let the crew down. There are too few of us left on this ship as it is. And more than that...it’s clear to me now how many people would miss me if I were gone. How badly my death would affect them. When you get right down to it, I don’t want to hurt them. Any of them. And maybe that’s how I’m going to start working my way around to not wanting to hurt myself._

_In the meantime, I have a decision to make - whether to accept the stopgap hormonal and surgical treatments offered by the Doctor, or the Borg reconfiguration offered by Seven of Nine. I can’t say either option is ideal - but I also know I need a path forward. The question now is which path I should choose._

* * *

“Mail call, Ensign Kim!”

Harry looked up from her PADD, eyebrows rising at the sight of Neelix coming through the door to Sickbay, carrying a PADD of his own as well as a folded piece of paper. The beaming Talaxian strode over briskly, holding them both out to her. “That PADD contains well wishes from your shipmates - myself included, of course. I even dug up some old Talaxian legends from my ship’s database, you might find them interesting. And Naomi Wildman made you a card.”

“She did? How much does she know?” Harry asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Well...she knows that you haven’t been feeling well. We haven’t explained exactly what happened,” Neelix replied, his face falling as he pulled up a chair and sat next to Harry’s bed. “And she knows you’re a woman. That you always have been, and it just wasn’t...clear. She seems to understand. She’s excited to see her auntie, whenever you’re ready.”

“Soon, I hope. Tell her I miss her.” Harry smiled softly, then looked down at the card, puzzling over the abstract shapes but pointing at a figure in black, with a yellow band across the shoulders. “That’s...me, right? The hair’s longer than mine.”

Neelix chuckled. “I think so. And I think that little figure next to you is Naomi. Her art style is a little...abstract.”

“Well, it’s a beautiful piece, whatever it’s meant to be,” she replied, with a wry grin, opening the card. “‘Get well soon, Aunt Ensign Kim.’”

“She wasn’t sure if she should still call you Harry. I understand the name’s still a work in progress.”

“It is, yeah.” Harry shook her head, holding up the PADD. “I have a full database of girls’ names on here. Along with a whole lot of books. Mostly on gender, gender identity, gender dysphoria, philosophy of gender, transition in both the twenty-first century and the present day, the functional application of Borg nanoprobes...I’m honestly getting a little sick of it all.”

“Oh! Well, I could get you some more books, if you like. If you enjoy those Talaxian legends, I’ve got quite the little library from my homeworld,” Neelix offered, visibly brightening. “And I could get you some music, some vids - Lieutenant Paris keeps telling me about this thing called a television, sort of an ancient holoprojector.”

Harry shook her head again, laughing this time. “Yeah, he’s been threatening to install one in here. Apparently they were very popular amenities in twentieth century hospitals. I’m sure the Doctor will let me at the ship’s database under supervision if I ask, but I appreciate the thought.”

“Oh. Well.” The Talaxian leaned back, fidgeting awkwardly. “Please just let me know if there’s anything I can do. You know, as Chief Morale Officer.”

“Neelix? Are you okay?” she asked, frowning.

“Well, I - I’m fine, but...I...I want to apologize, Ensign Kim. The truth is, I haven’t been very good at keeping up morale at all lately. It’s the Void...the darkness outside, it…”

Neelix shuddered, and Harry got to her feet, leaning over to put her hand on his shoulder. “Neelix - you don’t have to apologize. None of us have been at our best lately. I certainly haven’t.”

“But if I’d been there for you, if I hadn’t just been going through the motions…”

Harry gave him a bittersweet little smile. “You’re far from the first person to say that to me. The truth is, Neelix, there were a lot of people I could have turned to. I should have realized that. I should have reached out. It’s not your fault I didn’t.”

Neelix nodded tightly, his eyes glistening slightly. “If you say so. I still...wish I had been more present.”

“You’re here now. That means a lot,” Harry returned.

“It’s not _enough_. I have a duty to this crew, to you - and you helped stop me last year, when I nearly ended my own life. Maybe...maybe that even helped you figure out how to circumvent the ship’s monitoring systems before you tried this. Maybe this _is_ partly my fault.”

“It’s not, Neelix. It’s really not.” She took his hand, squeezing it, then tilted her head thoughtfully. “Neelix...last year...you were revived by Seven’s nanoprobes. I know that experience was traumatic but - you know she suggested using Borg technology to help me. I’m just...not sure about it.”

Neelix let out a small puff of breath at that. “Oh. Well. Of course I’m not very fond of the Borg in general. And...I didn’t react very well to being revived at the time. But none of that was Seven’s fault, Ensign. She acted to save my life. Just like she’s acting to save yours. She cares about us, you know - she’s just not very good at saying so. She’s more the kind of person who expresses her feelings through actions. By trying to help us, catching us when we fall.”

Harry sighed. “It’s not that I don’t trust her. It’s that it’s hard to wrap my mind around the idea of doing something that comes so close to assimilation.”

“If you trust her, Ensign Kim, I think that’s your answer,” Neelix replied. “Trust that Seven knows what she’s doing. That she’s investigated this, and has every confidence in her solution. And you should trust that Lieutenant Torres and the Doctor know what they’re doing, too. They won’t let this go forward unless they’re sure it’s safe for you.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right.” She sat back on the bed, leaning back, turning her eyes to the ceiling.

“Ensign, let me ask you this - as I understand it, your only other option is...a disappointment compared to what your Federation can normally do. Do you really want to spend the next two years living with a stopgap measure, when your crewmates are offering you an option that could give you the body you want, the treatment you _need_ , here and now?”

“...I...I don’t,” Harry said softly, looking back at Neelix. “I really don’t. I have to take this opportunity. Neelix - thank you.”

He beamed, reaching out to pat Harry’s hand. “You are very welcome, Ensign. Now, are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for you?”

“Well…” Harry trailed off, chuckling softly. “If I’m going to stick myself in a Borg genetic reconfiguration chamber for a week, I wouldn’t mind a last meal. Ask Tom to let you into my personal database. My mom’s recipe for salmon hoedeopbap is in there, she used to make it for me every time I was sick or feeling down.”

“Oh! Of course! I’d be delighted to make it for you,” Neelix assured her. “I’ll replicate any ingredients I need to - though with your permission, perhaps I could experiment a little down the road, make some substitutions. It might make a nice change to the usual menu in the mess hall.”

Harry smiled crookedly. “Sure. Just don’t ever tell my mother I let you tinker with her family recipe.”

“I will take your secret to my grave,” Neelix swore solemnly, putting a hand to his chest, before breaking into a grin. “And just let me know if you think of anything else.”

“Will do, Neelix. Thanks again.”

Neelix stood and leaned forward, grasping her arm companionably. “Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do.”

* * *

_Captain’s log, supplemental. Ensign Kim has, after due consideration, decided to proceed with the Borg genetic reconfiguration procedure offered by Seven of Nine. In consultation with the Doctor, I have decided to grant the Ensign permission to assist in the final calibrations of the device, so long as she remains under the supervision of at least one other crew member at all times._

* * *

“So,” B’Elanna said, tapping away at the console next to the reconfiguration chamber, “you come up with a new name yet?”

Harry sighed, shaking her head. “Not really. It feels like trying to find a needle in a haystack, you know? I have access to a database of feminine names from across the Federation and beyond - Neelix even tossed a Talaxian database into the mix. Even narrowing it down to just human names...it’s a little overwhelming.”

“I see. Well, there’s the simplest option, you know. The feminine equivalent of Harry would be, what, Harriet? You could still even go by Harry if you wanted.”

“Yeah...I don’t think so,” Harry replied, making a slight gagging sound.

“I agree,” Seven added, running a phase resistance probe over one of the sterilization modules. “The name Harriet is aesthetically repugnant.”

B’Elanna snorted at that, looking over at the former drone. “Well, I hope we don’t run into any Harriets. And aesthetically repugnant? Strong words from the ex-Borg. I didn’t think aesthetics were a consideration for you.”

“In the past, they were not. However, at the encouragement of the Captain and the Doctor, I have been exploring my individual sensibilities.” Seven looked up, tilting her head slightly. “I find the name Harriet...displeasing.”

“Well, it’s Harry’s choice.”

“It is Harry’s choice - or whatever my name is going to be - and I don’t like Harriet, either,” Harry said firmly. “I am sort of stuck on the letter H, though. I was considering Helen, but I’m not sure.”

B’Elanna nodded, pursing her lips as she considered the possibility. “Helen, hm. Well, it’s not bad. A little old-fashioned. I knew a Helen back at the Academy. Can’t say I liked her much.”

Seven arched her one visible eyebrow. “Was there anyone at Starfleet Academy whose company you found tolerable?”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny,” the Lieutenant scoffed. “I guess those individual sensibilities include a sense of humor.”

“Not at all. It was a genuine question, given your general history and...demeanor.”

Harry held up both hands, stepping between the two of them. “Okay, think we can nip this one in the bud? For my sake?”

B’Elanna grunted, turning back to the console. “Fine. Only for you, Harry.”

“Very well,” Seven agreed.

“Good. Anyway, maybe not Helen. Let’s see.” Harry pulled out her PADD, scanning the list. “I’ve picked out a few other possibilities. Hannah...Heather...Hope, though I don’t know, that one’s a little on the nose. And I think I want something with a couple syllables. There are some Korean names I could consider, too. Though my parents already gave me a Korean name for my middle name, I kind of want to keep that pattern.”

“What’s your middle name now?” B’Elanna asked.

“Seong-jin. It was my great-grandfather’s name,” Harry explained. “I’m thinking of switching it to my great-grandmother’s, Eun-Ji. The hanja mean ‘mercy’ and ‘wisdom,’ roughly.”

Seven looked up again. “Excellent qualities to aspire to, Ensign. I believe that name will serve you well.”

“Ah...thanks.” Harry flushed slightly, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Well, Seven, you’re apparently an expert on aesthetics now,” B’Elanna said, turning back to the ex-Borg and smirking lightly. “Maybe you can help poor Harry out. Any suggestions for her new first name?”

“No.” Seven turned back to her work, then paused. “Yes. Perhaps.”

Harry raised her eyebrows, spreading her hands. “Well, let’s hear it. Chronometer’s running down here, I’ll take all the help I can get.”

Seven hesitated for a moment, her cheeks turning slightly pink. Finally, she spoke. “Hallie.”

“Hallie? Huh.” Harry gazed into empty space, tilting her head, considering the notion. “Hallie. It’s interesting...where did that come from?”

Seven turned back to her work, her cheeks darkening further. “I believe I heard it used in a holoprogram I tried some months ago. A sophomoric diversion. But I nevertheless find the name pleasant.”

“Seven, are you _blushing?_ ” B’Elanna asked, a smirk coming to her lips as her eyebrows slowly rose.

“I am not. It is uncomfortably warm in here.”

“It’s _always_ warm in here. Isn’t a temperature of 39.1 degrees required for optimal regeneration?”

“I am not currently regenerating,” Seven said curtly. “Computer, lower the temperature in the cargo bay by eighteen degrees.”

The computer beeped, and as the air began to grow cooler, Seven turned to look at B’Elanna, who finally raised her hands in surrender and turned her attention back to the console. Harry hesitated for a moment, then stepped to Seven’s side, lowering her voice.

“Hey. Seven...wherever you got that name, I’m not going to judge. I appreciate the suggestion. I’ll think about it. It’s just kind of a big decision.”

“I...understand. I have been reluctant to change my own designation back to my original name,” Seven replied, a little awkwardly. “Or to any other traditional human name, for that matter. It would be a significant change, and my life has already changed a great deal since I came aboard _Voyager_.”

Harry smiled lightly. “Tell me about it. Listen, Seven...I know we’ve had some, uh, awkward interactions in the past. But if there’s anything you’d like to talk about…”

“I did not think we were friends, Ensign,” Seven said, though her tone was soft and non-judgmental, for once.

“I think I haven’t been a very good friend to you. But you’ve been a better friend than I deserve. What you’re doing now...I’m very grateful. It’s more than I ever could have asked of you.”

“You did not need to ask. You are a part of this crew. I wanted to help.”

Harry smiled again, shaking her head. “Like I said. You’re a terrific friend. So I wouldn’t mind trying to get this right.”

“I…” Seven trailed off, then nodded, a very slight smile coming to her lips as well. “I believe I would like that, Ensign.”

“Call me Harry. At least until I decide on something better. Hallie might be it,” the Ensign replied. “The more I think about it...the more I kind of like it.”

* * *

_Captain’s log, Stardate 52099.9. The Borg genetic reconfiguration chamber is now complete. The Doctor, Lieutenant Torres, and Ensign Kim have all thoroughly examined it and completed the final calibrations, and all have agreed that we are ready to begin the Ensign’s transition._

_In addition, Ensign Kim has decided on a new name. Let the record show that she is properly addressed as Ensign Hallie Eun-Ji Kim. The ship’s database has been updated to reflect this reality, and if and when we again make contact with Starfleet Command, we will transmit this update to them. I can tell that Hallie is nervous about explaining things to her parents, but as ever, she will have the respect and support of this entire crew on her side._

_I confess that I am somewhat anxious myself. It’s difficult to see any crewmember undertake an elaborate medical procedure, and perhaps it’s time I admitted that I have a personal investment in the welfare of our young Ensign. Since she came aboard, I have had a hand in guiding her, teaching her, nurturing her. I should have done more. I think I’ll be grappling with this guilt - with the fact that I failed her, nearly failed the entire crew - for some time. And now she’ll be unconscious for an entire week, as her entire body is broken down and systematically rebuilt. All the simulations we’ve run have been successful. All indicators are good. But I’m not sure I’ll be able to breathe properly until she opens her eyes again, a week from now._

_Godspeed, Ensign Kim. We’re all praying for a smooth transition and a swift recovery._

* * *

“Well, Ensign Kim,” Janeway announced, once everyone was assembled in the cargo bay. “Your orders for the next two weeks are simple. Rest and recovery, under medical supervision. We’ll see how things go from there.”

Hallie chuckled lightly. “I don’t think it’s going to be too hard for me to follow those orders for this first week, Captain.”

“No. But I can tell you from experience, that second week’s going to drive you up the wall.” Janeway smiled warmly, and pulled Hallie into a brief hug. “Rest well, Ensign. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Thank you. Really...thank you for everything,” Hallie replied, her eyes glistening slightly as she returned the hug. She and the Captain shared a smile before she moved down the line, shaking Chakotay’s hand.

“Good luck, Ensign Kim. Rest well, and get well soon.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Hallie agreed. “Commander Tuvok...I know this must not be entirely logical.”

“Not at all, Ensign. When you have recovered, I suggest you read S’lira’s _The Logical Underpinnings of Gender Identity_. The title is more evocative in the original Vulcan, but I believe you will nevertheless find it meaningful. I, too, wish you peace and success in your endeavors.” The Vulcan officer raised his hand, offering the traditional salute. “Live long and prosper, Ensign Kim.”

Hallie returned the salute, smiling softly. “Peace and long life.”

“Well!” Neelix remarked, visibly pleased. “You surprise me every day, Mr. Vulcan. What a delightful attitude. Maybe I should read this book myself.”

Tuvok raised an eyebrow at him. “Indeed, Mr. Neelix. You might benefit generally from a study of Vulcan philosophy.”

“Thanks for your help, Neelix,” Hallie said, beaming at the Talaxian and moving in for a hug. “And for the hoedeopbap. It was a lot like mom’s.”

“I’m glad. And I’ll try to do better the next time you request it,” Neelix replied. “Though I think I’ve almost perfected my Delta Quadrant hoedeopbap with leola root and vakiru protein cubes. I’ll make sure to put it on the menu once you’re back on duty.”

Hallie laughed, shaking her head. “Well...I look forward to the adventure.”

“Come here, Hallie, you’re not getting away without a hug from me, too,” B’Elanna announced, embracing the Ensign once she moved on. “You’re going to be okay. We double and triple checked everything, and Seven and the Doctor will be watching over you. If there are any problems, I’ll get here on the double. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“I won’t. I’m in the best possible hands here.”

“That’s right. Mine.” B’Elanna smirked. “I guess the Doctor and Seven are pretty competent, too.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” the Doctor remarked dryly. “I would say good luck as well, Ensign, but you don’t need it.”

Seven raised her eyebrow. “Luck is, regardless, an irrelevant concept. We have tested the genetic reconfiguration chamber thoroughly. It will operate with maximum efficiency.”

“Thank you. Both of you. You’ve both done more than I ever could have asked for,” Hallie said, smiling at the both of them, then turning to Tom. “Ah…”

Janeway cleared her throat. “I think we’ve crowded the Ensign quite enough. Let’s give her and Lieutenant Paris a moment to say their goodbyes.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Tom murmured, and B’Elanna squeezed his hand before slipping out of the cargo bay with the rest of the crew. The Doctor moved some distance away, pausing only to take Seven by the arm and nudge her along with him as she continued, briefly, to look on. Then, at last, the two of them were alone. “Har - Hallie. Sorry. I promise I’ll have that down by the time you wake up.”

Hallie’s smile softened, and she put a hand on his arm. “I know you will.”

Tom smiled back, his eyes slightly moist with tears, and he let out a short laugh. “God. I’m really going to miss you. You know...I was an only child. My dad wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. He had very specific ideas about how my life would go, and we didn’t always agree.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Hallie replied, with a bittersweet little laugh of her own.

“I guess you do. And you also know...that left me with a chip on my shoulder a whole quadrant wide. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. I tended to push people away, alienate them the way my father alienated me. But you...you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Hallie. I still don’t know what the hell you saw in me to begin with.”

The Ensign smiled, pulling him into a hug. “I’ll tell you what I saw. I saw the kind of man who’d swoop in to rescue a complete stranger from a pushy Ferengi merchant trying to run a scam. I saw someone who’d made mistakes, yeah, but didn’t deserve to spend the rest of his life condemned for those missteps. I saw someone who just needed a chance to be one of the best men I’ve ever met. Tom, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. Maybe I would have died years ago, maybe it would have just been days ago, but I _literally_ would not still be here if you hadn’t been around. I could have died if you hadn’t cared enough to go looking for me, and I realize now that’s not what I wanted. And when I told you what I _did_ want, who I was, how I needed to live, you accepted it instantly. I was an only child, too, but since I met you...I don’t feel like one. I finally have a big brother. And you’re the best big brother I could ask for.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke, and by the time she was done, Tom’s eyes shone just as brightly. He wiped at them, sniffling, and then squeezed her tightly. “You’re a better sister than I’ve ever deserved.”

“That’s not true. Someday I’ll even get you to believe it.” She nodded at the reconfiguration chamber beside them. “Care to tuck me in?”

“Yeah. You bet.” He helped her in between the struts of the sterilization frame, squeezing in beside her as she settled into the biobed. Once she was in place, he took her hand, bringing it to his chest so she could feel his heartbeat, and then he leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Rest well, little sister.”

Hallie smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, big brother. See you in a week.”


End file.
